


Can you tell a smile from a veil?

by Angyie



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Art, Bonding over art, Character Study, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, Parental Issues, Photography, Pregame bonding, Prompto centric, Self-Worth Issues, Slight Episode Prompto Spoilers perhaps, Slow Burn, not spoiler free
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angyie/pseuds/Angyie
Summary: “There you have it, Prompto’s awesome portfolio, as requested! I guess I should probably warn you, I hope you didn’t expect much from it, it’s nothing special and it’s kinda crappy at some parts, and also it’s a bit like, all thrown together, there’s no common theme that can make an actual series like big artists do or anything and I should probably stop talking but you catch my drift, right?”There was no way Prompto and Ignis should have crossed paths in the first place. And yet, here they were, discovering that behind the veil, they had more in common than they orginally thought.





	Can you tell a smile from a veil?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [green_piggy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/gifts).



> I originally wanted this to be a one-shot but can you feel the slowburn tonight, can you? Gods I haven't published something in months this is nerve wracking. I hope you can enjoy Prompto and Ignis's little bubble of art I'm building for them!
> 
> This one goes to green_piggy aka Bond aka my best friend as today is her birthday, she's a wonderful person and I'm extremely grateful of all the things that she has done for me and all the people around her. You should go check her own works!
> 
> I have a few more things to say but I'll put that in the ending notes, but before that, one more thing, I am not an English native speaker and practically taught myself all I know now so please try to ignore some awkward phrasing or grammar mistakes haha~

It all began with, “Would you mind showing me?”

A slim smile plastered on his face despite the ache in his lungs, earphones in his ears, Prompto followed the dusty path along the river that went through Insomnia. His morning runs were a habit he couldn’t get rid of despite the years, as he had no need for such things now. Yet, the familiar burn of his camera’s strap against the bare skin around his neck and the weight of the device bumping against his chest as he ran, that he would surely miss it if he stopped.

As he would miss the sunrise breaking through the Crown City’s skyline.

His throat was burning when he stopped. He politely waved at a familiar face, the one of another jogger he met years ago when he was still a chubby kid who couldn’t run a few feet without coughing up his lungs. The sky was a blinding mix of crimson, orange and pink with no clouds in sight. He gripped his camera, closed an eye and took a shot.

It was a great day.

He had hundreds and hundreds of photos of this specific place on the edge of the river, years and years accumulating. They told the story of a shy, chubby child growing into a thinner, brighter, braver young man, and he had kept each single one of them, safely tucked into a special portfolio that was so thick and almost ready to explode with the amount it had inside.

He took a second photo, this time with his arm stretched out in front of him, his hand opened as if he was trying to grab one of the buildings of the Citadel on the other side of the river. This one, he would slide it behind the previous one. The same two photos each day, and if he wasn’t feeling confident enough, he only had to open the album at the first page, take a look at the very first photo of his short, chunky arm and then watch the very last one with a thinner, longer arm, growing closer to the Citadel.

He began running again, wondering if Noctis was still asleep. Knowing him, he probably was, he chuckled silently.

His feet brought him to the streets near the Citadel that were slowing filling up with busy, working people. Some were just waking up, opening their windows in the upper floors while cafes, restaurants and shops were opening in the lower ones to welcome their first clients. Cars were softly roaring, children were laughing and jumping in puddles from the rain of the previous day, a couple were holding hands and smiling to each other on the other side of the street as the sun rays warmed the awakening city through the Wall of the King.

Prompto grabbed his camera again.

It was a great day.

“Prompto?”

He was so engrossed in his own little world that Prompto almost didn’t stop, if it weren’t for the soft, accented voice that clashed with the rougher ones of the ordinary citizen around them.

There stood Ignis, Noct’s so uptight advisor, in his usual attire. (How he could wear that many clothes at any time of the year was beyond Prompto’s understanding. He was currently wearing a simple t-shirt and short as summer was quickly approaching and Ignis was just… well, Ignis.) His fingers pushed back his glasses on his nose, giving him an even sharper look as he turned away from the guard of the immense gates of the Citadel he was chatting with.

“Oh, hey, Ignis… Good morning?”

Not that it was a question, but Prompto couldn’t help but sound hesitant. He and Ignis had never been alone before, nor had they really talked. There always was Noct with them and even between them to keep the conversation going and most of the times it was about Noctis anyway. Overall, he knew practically nothing about the man himself, except that he had known Noct for almost their entire lives, he would undoubtedly live the rest of it by the prince’s side and his cooking was a gift from the Six themselves.

“A good morning indeed. I don’t recall seeing you around here often.”

“Oh, really? Well, usually I take a different way, but the weather’s nice today, so…”

Ignis nodded. Prompto’s eyes went to the sidewalk. He cleared his throat.

Well, weather talk, that was really when you had nothing to say. Awkward.

After what seemed to be the longest ten seconds of his life under Ignis’ burning stare, Prompto finally found something else to say, longing to go back to his run and flee far away.

“So, uh, what are you doing outside of the Citadel? I thought you nobles had everything inside.” Great Prompto, way to sound petty and dismissive. But Ignis only huffed.

“That would be true, if it wasn’t for the bakery a few streets from here. The owner is an old friend of mine and it would be rude of me to miss her morning pastries, as I’ve been visiting her each morning for the past five years. His Highness wouldn’t have anything else that doesn’t come from my own kitchen for his breakfast either way.”

“I don’t know how you can put up with him in the morning, I’ve never seen someone sleep that much.”

“Well, one should know how to deal with him after so many years.”

Prompto gave a soft laugh. The prince’s sleepiness was even known among the people of Insomnia, that already said a lot.

The awkward silence came back with such force that Prompto began to fiddle with his fingers behind his back. Without Noct, there wasn’t much to say between them, and even conversation topics about the man himself weren’t enough.

“Well, uh, it’s been nice, but I have to--”

“Would you like to accompany me?”

“Uh?”

“The bakery,” Ignis said, very matter-of-factly. Alright, Prompto knew he was an idiot, but it showed even more around Ignis.

“I, uh… Well, it’s very nice of you, but I gotta go back home to grab my stuff for school today and make sure I got enough stuff to develop my photos tonight, so…”

“Ah, yes, Noct has mentioned you are a photographer.”

Prompto almost choked on his own breath and snorted. “He has? Nah, I’m just a sixteen-year-old kid playing around with his camera, that’s all.” He never had enough confidence to think of himself that way, so hearing it from someone else was… Disconcerting.

“Still, every artist has to start somewhere.”

Prompto gulped, finally meeting Ignis’ scrutinizing gaze. His voice had been sharp, leaving no room for discussion and Prompto suddenly found himself to be very small under that stare. Then, Ignis’ features softened and a smile, so small Prompto almost didn’t see it, appeared on his thin lips, as he slightly tilted his head to his right.

“Would you mind showing me?”

… Wait, what?

“Uh…”

See, Prompto had rules. Taking photos of everything and everyone, and then never showing them to anyone. Pretty straightforward, it didn’t bother anyone, no one cared. People’s opinions scared him, just the thought of their condescending stares and the look in their eyes made him want to throw away his camera into Insomnia’s river. ( _You, a photographer? Is that even useful anyway?_ )

Ignis’ demeanor suddenly changed as Prompto’s brain was trying to process his words. The eighteen-year-old man (Teen? Man?) took a step back biting his lips, showing hesitance that seemed incompatible with the person Prompto had in mind and his eyes darted to the side for a second.

“My apologies if that was too forward of me to ask. You don’t have to feel obliged to do it.”

“No!” They were both startled by his sudden outburst. “I mean… Let me think about it? I, uh, don’t really show them often, so… I’m not saying no, I just…”

“I understand then. I’ll be looking forward to it,” Ignis said gently, and smiled a little more. Prompto answered the same way and he waved at Noct’s advisor as he went off running again. His camera bumped against his chest once more, but it had a different weight to it, as if Prompto had suddenly remembered what it really was.

Did he have enough courage to show a bit of himself and his work to someone? Especially someone as sharp and criticizing as Ignis. He swallowed with difficulty. Yet, he was still smiling by the time he got home.

It was a great day.

 

* * *

 

Prompto realized he had fucked up only after he came home.

If the weight of his camera had suddenly doubled, it seemed the strap around his neck was attempting to choke him. He didn’t have much time before he was supposed to leave for school if he wanted not to be late, but as always, he took time to change his clothes for his uniform, as well as putting his camera down on his desk.

The house was silent. He could see the dust flying around through the rays of sunlight, taking note that he should probably clean up before his parents came home. Whenever they would.

He opened the door of his closet, ignoring the mirror on the door. Among a few shelves of clothes, one of them was not filled with clothes but small tanks, each usually filled with different liquids and chemicals, but as of today they were empty. A thermometer was stuck against the wood on the side with some duct tape. A string that used to be a shoelace hung above the tanks, and attached to them with pegs were his latest photos.

The entire thing looked as if he had taken a look at a ‘Do It Yourself’ video on the internet, and it wasn’t far from the truth. _A Beginner’s Guide to Darkroom Equipment_ was hidden somewhere between two pairs of jeans, a book so thick and so old with pages falling apart Prompto was pretty sure it had been printed way before the war and came from beyond the capital city. He had managed to save it a few years ago from a grumpy old man who managed a photography developing store and who wanted to throw it to the trash, mumbling about how no one cared about the old fashioned way to take photos and how everything was digital these days. Perhaps he had taken pity on the poor little boy tearing up because he didn’t have money to buy the book.

So yes, Prompto’s darkroom equipment came from pretty much all he could salvage from what he already had. Which wasn’t much in the first place. All his savings already went to what he could not innovate with, such as the chemicals needed to develop his precious photos or the special paper itself.

He still had a digital camera, one he actually used much more, but he also had not enough money to print them. (Well, he had tried to use the school’s printers, and that did not go so well.) He still spent a nearly not reasonable amount of time editing them on his laptop who looked like it had seen better days, but there was no way he could abandon the ‘old fashioned’ way.

Grabbing and opening the pegs, he took the photos hanging from the string. Those were the ones from the past week. Smiling, he took them all with gentle hands and closed his closet door after hiding his camera from this morning inside. He kneeled beside his bed, searching blindly for his most treasured possession underneath it. With a victorious ‘Ha!’, he seized his ready-to-burst portfolio and quickly skimmed through it until he found empty pages. With swift, accustomed movements, he slipped his newest work into the little plastic pockets.

And promptly remembered Ignis’ request.

He slammed the book closed and kicked it to where it stayed hidden.

It’s not like he _had_ to hide one of the only things that brought him a bit of joy and color in this pitiful picture that was his silent home. It’s not like his parents were home a lot in any case. Life was a lonely journey, that he had learned early on. So a stupid hobby like his, why would they care? They probably wouldn’t. Or they actually would. He could see that happen, complaints about how money was of the essence and if he was so determined to take so much space and resources, he could at least have the decency to help with something useful.

Which made Ignis’ inquiry even more questionable. As if the future king’s advisor had enough time for such childish’s concerns. The few times Prompto had seen him at Noct’s place or to pick up the prince from school, he was constantly looking at his watch or phone, typing in such a fast manner that put Prompto’s skills at free-to-play mobile games to shame. Hell, if Prompto hadn’t seen the slight smile he gave him this morning, he could have been fooled to think the guy was some kind of robot. (Oh, the sweet irony.)

Only an hour or so after accidentally meeting Ignis, Prompto was fairly sure the guy had either asked him about his hobby by pure politeness or he had a darker agenda and was trying to mess with him. The thought made him laugh nervously. You never know what could happen with the ‘government people’.

His digital camera was safely buried underneath mountains of textbooks and crinkled, forgotten sheets of paper in his school bag. He quickly changed into his uniform, having wasted enough time already. Not that he would mind making a run for the early morning classes.

He made a stop in front of his pantry, his hand frozen midair. His stomach protested as he closed it without taking anything from it. His morning run had already burned his early breakfast, but the sight of his almost empty pantry made him think twice. Maybe tomorrow. Lunch was only in a few hours after all. He would survive.

 

* * *

 

“Dude, end me,” Prompto moaned, sprawled all over his desk as the bell rang, announcing lunch.

Silence.

“Are you really falling asleep right when the class ends?” He said as he slapped the back of his classmate’s head.

Noctis barely reacted, just groaning and burying his face further into his crossed elbows. “‘m gonna send you to martial court for harm to the royal family, I’m gonna do it one day, just wait and see, peasant,” he mumbled.

“Or you could, you know, play the prince card right if you actually looked like one, because let me tell you right now you just look like that stoned kid from chemistry class.”

“Fuck you, I don’t look like him, have you seen his hair?”

“Dude, have you seen yours?”

“Don’t even go there.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Noct snorted and straightened, a sign that he was finally waking up. He lazily stretched, and grabbed his bag, from which he withdrew his lunch. “Man, I’m so jealous,” Prompto whined over his shoulder. “If only I had a royal cook make that for me every day.”

“The cooks from the palace didn’t make that, Ignis did,” Noct said in a bored tone as he stabbed a lettuce leaf with his fork as if he held a personal vendetta against it. “I mean, it’s not like I ask him to, but he doesn’t want me to _‘skip a meal or eat a poor excuse of a balanced diet’,_ ” he added with an almost perfect imitation of Ignis’ accent.

Prompto rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Is he wrong though?”

“... Shut up.”

“You’re going to have to make me,” Prompto said as he bit into his hastily made sandwich. He watched from the corner of his eyes Noctis biting expectantly into a small pastry covered with a small amount of icing sugar. The prince chewed for quite a long time than necessary, before shrugging. He still finished the pastry, though with a little disappointed sigh. “Still not the one?” Prompto asked.

“That tastes even less like what I remember than the last ones.”

Prompto resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As much as he loved his best friend, he could really act like a spoiled prince sometimes. “Well, if you’re not finishing it, I’m taking the other one!” Noct shrugged again and handed him the box. Prompto bit into the pastry, humming at the flavor exploding into his mouth. Was it a mix of red berries this time? “So, cooking is his thing, right?”

“... I guess?”

“... What do you mean, _‘I guess’_ , didn’t you say you’ve know him for like a decade or something?”

“I guess cooking is his thing, I don’t know, he has always cooked as far as I remember, like that’s what he always does? Why the hell do you ask me that all of the sudden?”

“Hey man, I’m just curious. It’s just weird that I got to eat the things he makes and the only thing I know about him is his name.” No need to mention how they stumbled upon each other this morning. Prompto was still a bit weirded out by the experience, in all honesty. He was trying to understand what kind of person Ignis was, but Noct wasn’t really helping. And the latter was eyeing him suspiciously. “Don’t give me that look! Like, I know we’ve met recently, but I know him less than Gladio and I met the guy like two weeks ago. That’s weird, right?”

If Noctis shrugged like this once more, Prompto swore he was going to punch him. “I don’t know, he doesn’t really have friends, he’s working all the time and no one has been able to make him stop for more than three days, not even my father. And dude, don’t take it the wrong way, but you’re not exactly the perfect example of someone who makes a lot of friends either.”

With a theatrical gasp, Prompto put his hand over his heart, faking a bullet shot through the chest. “Your Highness, such harsh words!” He said with an extremely accented voice. Noctis nudged his shoulder with his fist and a mocking smile. “Excuse you, I got tons of friends.”

“Really? Who?”

“Well, you, and therefore as a friend of the prince, I am a friend of the entire nation. See, I am a friendly guy.”

Noct gave him an incredulous look, clearly speechless. “I have no idea where this conversation even started.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, slouching in his chair, and if Prompto didn’t know he had the prince of the kingdom right in front of him, he would never be able to guess. “You’re coming to my place tonight by the way? You can thank Ignis for the pastries at least. He knows you finish them, so.”

“Does he?”

“Are you kidding?” Noctis huffed. “He knows everything.”

It didn’t really occur to Prompto what coming over to Noctis’ place after school quite meant for him. He had barely put thoughts into Ignis’ request or considered it ever since this morning. All he knew is that if he could spend more time away from the loneliness of what he could barely call a home, he would take it.

However, everything came back to him as a quick, sharp reminder as he stepped inside Noctis’ apartment, where a fresh scent of spices floated in the air. In front of him, Noctis lazily took off his shoes and sent his bag flying away into the living room.

“Noct,” Ignis’ voice came from beyond the living room, from the little kitchen. “It may be your place, but that does not mean you can cause such a mess.”

Prompto froze in the entrance with a nervous eye twitch. Before Noct could throw him a suspicious look, he walked inside after taking off his shoes, hoping that at least one of the Six could hear his prayers. Maybe Ignis had forgotten his entire existence since this morning. Hopefully.

“Prompto.” Ignis’ stern voice and nod as a greeting proved him wrong as soon as he came into view. “I suspected as much. Please take a seat,” he gestured towards the couch that Noctis had already taken over. Then the advisor turned back to his stove.

No acknowledgement of their little chance meeting. As expected, Prompto had been stressing out over nothing, a small, random spark of detail in Ignis’ busy day that could be easily forgotten. Prompto didn’t know if it was either relief or disappointment that spread in his chest, yet he couldn’t hold back a small sigh.

It wasn’t like he wanted to show off that silly hobby of his either way, so why bother?

Oblivious to his friend’s inner turmoil, Noct’s nonchalance deserved its merit however, dragging him into seemingly hopeless homework that slowly yet surely became an impromptu King’s Knights raid on Gladio’s castle. The Shield was in for a surprise the next time he would log on.

May the Six bless Noctis for taking his best friend’s mind away from his concerns.

However, the moment Noct got up from the couch, saying he would be fetching something from his bedroom and come back in only a few moments, Prompto found himself in quite an awkward spot. His eyes trailed over to the opening that showed the kitchen. From there, he could see Ignis working, both keeping an eye on the prince’s dinner as well as writing down in a small, greenish notebook with silver decorations on the cover. It could probably fit in his chest pocket, and it wasn’t the first time Prompto had seen him with it.

With Noct in another room, the silence proved itself to be quite the challenge from Prompto. His paranoid brain kept telling him Ignis was either judging every single movement he made or didn’t care about his existence at all. Something in-between would be quite welcomed, he pleaded his mind.

Finally, he got up from the couch, almost tripping as his foot crashed against the low table’s leg. Cursing his clumsiness, he approached the kitchen, immediately stopping at the entrance when Ignis gave him a curious, intimidating side look.

“So… Ignis? About, uh, this morning, I, uh…”

“I believe I made myself clear. I’ll wait as long as you want me to, even if you end up refusing altogether,” Ignis closed his notebook with a dry, sharp sound, slipping his pencil into his pocket. He looked up, brushing away a few strands of hair that fell from his bangs on his forehead. As he scrutinized an overly fidgeting Prompto attempting to hide his inner anxiousness, his features softened. There was a spark of hesitance in his eyes as his brows furrowed, and Prompto suddenly realized that he would have never thought that shyness and Ignis Scientia could go together. And yet, it was quite a shy Ignis, in his own way of course, that he had in front of him. “I should apologize, was it not what we had agreed upon?”

Oh. Okay then. Needless to say, Prompto was quite speechless. “No, no, no, not at all, I just thought… I don’t know, I just thought you were just being nice or polite, you know…”

“I assure you, I am very much interested in what you do.”

Well. There wasn’t much to answer to that, was it?

Despite himself, Prompto smiled softly. “Alright then. Just give me a bit of time.”

“Alright then,” Ignis repeated, pushing back his glasses on his nose and hiding his own smile behind his hand.

 

* * *

 

 

‘A bit of time’ became something close to four or five weeks. 

And Prompto could attest, it was quite enough time spent wallowing restless and disbelieving. Most of all, he questioned why, everytime Ignis would come looking after Noctis, the man would always give him a warm, almost imperceptible smile. It was meant to be encouraging and yet patient at the same time, and Prompto had still yet to fathom why such a busy man would take interest in him.

The second week was a lot of time wasted for the sole reason that his parents had come home for a few days only. A permission granted by what was left of the Insomnian army, as if they were enough to do something beyond the Wall. Everyone knew, whether they were brave enough to admit it or not, that the Empire was at their doors. The Crown City was the only thing left from the formerly thriving kingdom.

But his mothers didn’t have the leisure nor the need to leave the army. Perhaps it was better for everyone, perhaps they just didn’t want to come home to care for a son they never asked for.

Still, their presence mostly meant a lot of awkward silence and staring at the wall during dinner, hoping the end of it would come quickly. What it also meant was no chance of going out with Noct for as long as they were here. Prompto might have mixed feelings about how clearly he wasn’t meant to live here in the first place, but the small child part of him still wished for loving parents. As much as every moment spent in their company seemed endless, he wouldn’t dare spend them anywhere else.

Most of all, it meant no recreational time for his cameras or his darkroom. He would miss a few days in his ‘Insomnia Sunset Skyline’ series, as he liked to call it, as he always did when his parents came home. It was nevertheless a good way to count how many days he could pretend having a family.

There was still no real reason to hide his interests the way he did. But his brain wouldn’t shut up either way. As comforting as Hyacinth’s smiles were when she asked him about his day at school in a soft voice, Almeta’s closed off features made him reluctant to share more than was needed. But as soon as they had come home, it was already time for them to leave.

His arms and hands wouldn’t let go of Hyacinth’s embrace as she wished him goodbye.

Resting his forehead against the door his mothers had closed the moment they left, his deep sigh was the only thing breaking the newly returned silence of his home. His shaking hands grabbed his forearm and wrist, pressing the skin beneath the bandana here. Brand new packs of instant food and snacks were waiting for him in the pantry, enough for him to last a few weeks without having to cut off a few meals, the walls and roof were protecting him for the current storm passing through the city, the school provided him enough uniforms to allow him not to worry about clothes. What right did he have to complain?

Despite the loneliness, his mothers’ presence was still heavy in the air and when he pulled out his album from underneath his bed, his chest felt small, as if too much air had tried to get in. Biting the knuckle of his thumb where his teeth found their rightful place every so often, his breaths came in loud, short gasps. It only lessened as he started to sense a fresh taste of metal on his tongue. Still on his knees in the middle of his room, he went through his book, mindful of not leaving any red smudges.

As this precise moment, the judgmental eyes of Almeta engraved in his mind, the plastic bin in the kitchen seemed tempting.

Too much light in this one. Not enough in the next one. The corner of this one was fading, probably from a mistake during development. And this one, the saturated colors hurt his eyes behind the blurry tears.

He didn’t know what came over him, but soon enough he found himself surrounded by slips and slips of torn paper. His hands had nearly wrenched months of work from their plastic protection, some of the latters miraculously still usable. Inside his closed fists where his nails dug into his skin, a photo of one of Insomnia’s parks rested crumpled beyond repair. The light, the colors, the framing, the subject, all of it, it was bland. Worthless.

Not a lot was still safe from his hysteria, he realized with a distraught laugh. No one wanted to see this. Mechanically, he picked up all the scraps with gentler hands. With a kick of his foot, he opened the trash can open, watching them twirling down into it. No one. Not even himself.

But Ignis did, he abruptly remembered.

He almost had to restrain himself from frantically digging the destroyed remnants from the bin. It was beyond salvageable anyway, it was of no use. But what a fool he was. Not only he had lost himself to his sorrows for a few seconds, but now he had nothing to show to Ignis, so polite, so talented, so sharp Ignis. And he could sense a headache coming from his earlier difficulty to breathe right. Instead, he went back to his portfolio still opened on the floor of his room. The sight itself made him want to turn back, maybe go sleep elsewhere if he had to, but he had no desire to go back to his room. Yet, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes. When he opened them, the book was still there.

He couldn’t resist, he hastily grabbed his camera and snapped a shot of the wistful scene.

Letting himself fall on the hard mattress of his bed, the book on his knees, it was with much more tender hands that he withdrew every intact photo from their slot, making a small pile next to him. There was not much left, perhaps only thirty at most. That was more than he could hope for, he thought. Tomorrow he would buy a brand new portfolio to put them in, a proper one that he could present to Ignis, even if it would cost him more than he could afford with his savings.

All of that happened at the end of the second week after his discussion with the future king’s advisor in the said king’s kitchen. He spent three more with his camera constantly in his hands, roaming around the city. His eyes were ones of a hawk, seeking for the best opportunity to snap. Sometimes he would find himself almost late at night, wishing to capture the last pink and orange rays of sunlight breaking through the almost invisible wall of His Majesty the King protecting them, bursting in so much more colors that he could count. Some nights were spent without closing his eyes, sliding each new photo he found good enough in his newly bought album. It was filled with around fifty of them, only a small fragment of everything he had taken with his camera during the past few days. But he wanted it to be perfect. Or as close as it could get.

And then one day, close to the fifth week mark after his conversation with Ignis and when Noct wasn’t looking or close enough to hear, he shoved the still brand new and shining book in a dumbfounded Ignis’ arms.

“There you have it, Prompto’s awesome portfolio, as requested,” he said with a full grin. But then, his anxiousness caught up quickly. “Uuuuh, so… I guess I should probably warn you, I hope you didn’t expect much from it, it’s nothing special and it’s kinda crappy at some parts, and also it’s a bit like, all thrown together, there’s no common theme that can make an actual series like big artists do or anything and I should probably stop talking but you catch my drift, right?”

Ignis stayed silent, pushing up his glasses on his nose and thus hiding most of his face. His other hand held the book with carefulness. His fingers then brushed against the hard leather cover. His lips formed a slight smile, at least it was one of Ignis’ standards.

“Thank you very much, Prompto,” he said as he went to open it.

“Well, uh, Ignis?” The name felt wrong on his tongue. It was still a weird feeling to be familiar with such important people close to the Crown. “Do you mind if you take a look at them all alone? I mean I got stuff to do like, uh, homework and stuff, maybe some cleaning up, that kind of things…”

He wasn’t fooling anyone, not even himself and certainly not Ignis, but it had been worth a try. He just had no desire to be here while Ignis went through something that still felt vastly personal. Ignis however played fool and pretended to believe him. “Very well. I shall give you my feedback in a few days then?”

Wow, feedback. That was a word that suddenly made everything more formal.

“Sure.”

Truth to be told, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear it. But there was no way he would run away now.

Yet, it was still what he was doing as he left Ignis alone with his most treasured possession.

**Author's Note:**

> Almeta and Hyacinth's characters come from green_piggy's own fic, I'm just borrowing them so thanks to her, you should go check it out! Also I took a few liberties, concerning Prompto being aware of being originally meant to be a MT, since if I remember correctly his DLC episode kinda cleared that up a bit. Also King's Knights, I have no idea what kind of game it actually is so welp. A Beginner’s Guide to Darkroom Equipment is an actual book since I did some research but even with that it's not exactly close to reality whoops.
> 
> Title comes from 'I wish you were here' by Pink Floyd because I'm an old 70s and 80s rock songs lover.
> 
> Tags will be updated at each new chapter, I don't know how many there will be, perhaps two or three? I hope you enjoyed and come visit me on twitter!
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter.](https://twitter.com/a_ngyie)


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